


who wears short shorts? kuroo wears short shorts

by dinosar



Series: kurodai week 2k16 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Frottage, Grinding, KuroDai Week, KuroDai Week 2016, M/M, dont even look at me, im going to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6321439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosar/pseuds/dinosar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>daichi and kuroo accidentally swap shorts. that's it thats the fic</p><p>for day 2 of kurodai week (clothing swap / same team au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	who wears short shorts? kuroo wears short shorts

**Author's Note:**

> how have i fallen so far
> 
> crusty this is 100% your fault take responsibility for my Sins
> 
> anyway hope u all enjoy this filth

“Y'know, I think we fucked up.”

 

Daichi glares up at his boyfriend as they enter the gym to join practice, trying in vain to adjust the too-tight shorts he's wearing so that they're at least a _little_ more comfortable―it doesn't work. “That would be the understatement of the century,” he grumbles.

 

“In my defense, it was really dark in that storage closet so I couldn't see whose shorts I grabbed...and it was _your_ idea to fool around in there in the first place,” Tetsurou points out, tugging the hem of his...“borrowed” shorts down in an effort to cover his legs a little more.

 

Daichi's cheeks burn. “Not so loud!” he hisses, elbowing the taller boy in the gut. He's already embarrassed enough that they'd almost been caught by one of their teammates, a nervous little freshman who'd just been looking for an extra towel. “Anyway, the point is that we're fucking stupid and we're never doing that again. Also, your hips are really fucking skinny and I'm very uncomfortable in these shorts,” he groans quietly, tugging at them again as discreetly as he can. “My dick is suffocating in here.”

 

Tetsurou scoffs. “ _Okay_ , but at least you don't have to be worried that a nut is gonna pop out if you bend over. Jesus, Daichi, your shorts are so short compared to mine...”

 

Unable to help himself, Daichi snorts at the mental picture Tetsurou paints―he can just imagine the looks of horror that would be on their teammates' faces...

 

“We're just gonna have to deal with it, there's no way we can sneak away again to get changed without people getting suspicious,” the shorter of the two sighs once he's sure he's not going to start laughing for real. “On the bright side, at least we grabbed the right shirts...”

 

“I fail to see how that's a bright side at all,” Tetsurou shoots back, raising an eyebrow. “You would've ended up in a tight shirt, which is _never_ a bad thing.”

 

Daichi rolls his eyes, but doesn't get to say anything in reply―their coach is glaring at them, so they hurry and join the rest of their teammates for practice.

 

* * *

 

They stumble into their shared apartment after practice, barely able to kick the door shut behind them before they're on each other.

 

“My god your ass in my shorts should be fucking _illegal_ ,” Tetsurou practically growls against his lips, dipping in for a deep, heady kiss that makes Daichi's head spin. “When you were practicing your receives, _fuck_ _―_ I couldn't stop staring,” he continues, breath hot against the brunet's skin as he kisses his way down his jaw, pausing to worry a mark into the spot just under his ear. “I'm pretty sure half the team was staring, actually. Not that I can blame them...”

 

“Fuck, _Tetsu_ ,” Daichi breathes, sliding his hands up into his boyfriend's hair as he drags him back up for another deep kiss, licking into his mouth briefly before pulling away. “I was scared my dick would rip through your shorts the whole time because oh my god, your _thighs_ ,” he gasps, pushing their hips together without even really meaning to. He's still wearing those god awful shorts, neither had taken the time to shower or even get changed after practice, and the restrictive material is _really_ starting to hurt. “You still―fuck, you still have some bruises on them from the other night, seeing them was driving me crazy the whole time,” he finishes, unable to stop himself from pushing their lips together once more as he reaches down to cup his boyfriend's ass, drinking in the deep moan that he lets out almost immediately as Daichi pulls him as close as possible.

 

Tetsurou lets out a groan when Daichi pulls away, throwing his head back against the door and panting. “Everyone probably saw those bruises, _fuck_ ,” he curses, running his hands through his own hair.

 

“After seeing your thighs, they're probably all jealous,” the shorter man breathes, mouthing at his boyfriend's neck since his mouth is currently unreachable. “Because I'm the only one who gets to mark up those perfect thighs, hmm?”

 

“ _Daichi_ ,” Tetsurou whines, sounding mildly distressed. “If you say shit like that, I―”

 

“You'll what?” Daichi prompts, nibbling on the sweat-salty skin of his neck.

 

“Fuck, I won't make it to the main event,” he gasps out, shuddering. It always amazes Daichi, how quickly he turns to putty in his hands.

 

“Mm, I don't mind that,” the brunet murmurs, one hand leaving Tetsurou's ass to slide up under his shirt, dragging the fabric up with it. “We have time for that later. Right now...I just really feel like making a mess of you, right here against this door.”

 

He feels Tetsurou's entire body shiver at that, and he finally gets his shirt high enough that he can start attacking his collarbone with wet kisses, one hand holding the shirt up as the other kneads his firm ass and keeps their hips pressed together. He rolls his hips against Tetsurou's narrower ones, creating heavenly friction, and he knows he isn't going to last long like this. Not after how wound up he'd been all throughout practice―even without the tantalizing sight of Tetsurou's kiss-bruised thighs tempting him the entire time, there's the fact that they hadn't even gotten to finish what they'd started when they'd sneaked off to fool around in the supply closet.

 

“You are a _demon_ ,” Tetsurou moans into his mouth, insistently pressing his own hips back against Daichi's.

 

“Are you complaining?” Daichi shoots back, a breathless laugh escaping him.

 

“ _Fuck_ , never,” he breathes, and Daichi can feel his hands tighten in the back of his shirt. “I fucking love it when you―ah, _shit_ , Daichi, keep going, fuck―I love it when you get like this,” he shakily manages to get out, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. His hands slip down the shorter man's back, and Daichi's breath stutters when he slips a finger under the too-tight elastic band of his shorts. He can instantly feel the not-quite sting where they'd separated from his skin, and he knows there must be deep grooves where the elastic had dug in. “Jesus, Daichi, take these off, they must be hurting you,” Tetsurou insists breathlessly, tugging at the black fabric.

 

“Don't care enough,” Daichi mumbles before bringing their lips together again, and Tetsurou's arms go slack in response. “Just wanna―” He slides his thigh in between his boyfriend's legs, rubbing it against the hardness in his shorts, and distantly feels bad for anyone who might be walking past their door when Tetsurou lets out a loud, stuttering moan at the feeling.

 

Daichi knows he's not going to last long, not after how long he's been wound up, and it doesn't seem like his boyfriend is any better off. Daichi feels like they're in high school again, sneaking off during the training camp to grind against each other like starved animals, except they're not sneaking around this time. It was a necessity back then, since it was rare that they got to actually see each other, but they live together now.

 

Still, it's fun to just let go like this sometimes.

 

Daichi's end comes suddenly―one second he's panting into his boyfriend's mouth and rubbing against his hip like a man possessed, and then Tetsurou's lips are leaving his own to make their way down his neck, sucking a mark into the sensitive spot near the hollow of his throat. The sensation is enough to send him over the edge, and he falls apart with a shuddering gasp, tugging Tetsurou sharply toward him and squeezing his ass as he rides it out. His boyfriend's lips don't leave his neck, and he knows he's going to have marks but he supposes it's only fair after everyone had seen the marks on his thighs during practice so he won't complain.

 

When he can finally speak, his lips move to tease the spot just under Tetsurou's ear, because Daichi knows it drives his boyfriend crazy. “C'mon, Tetsu,” he breathes, a hand leaving his ass to cup his dick instead, rubbing it through the shorts.

 

“Hah, fuck,” Tetsurou half sobs as he comes almost right after Daichi speaks, hips stuttering against Daichi's hand, and his hands grip the shorter man's shoulders tightly as his release crashes through him.

 

They stand there for a moment, leaning against each other as their breathing slowly calms, and Tetsurou starts to laugh. “I love how you get when you're horny,” he sighs, nuzzling his face into Daichi's neck. “I gotta get you riled up more often,” he tacks on, pulling back to shoot his boyfriend a crooked, toothy grin that shows off his single dimple―Daichi's heart momentarily stops before he regains his bearings, giving the taller boy a gentle shove.

 

“Shut up, it's embarrassing,” he mumbles in response, hiding the redness of his face in his boyfriend's chest. Tetsurou's arms wrap around him as he presses a kiss to the crown of his head, which only makes Daichi's cheeks grow hotter. Even after being with him for three years, he still gets weak when Tetsurou does cute things like that―which is often.

 

“Mm, I love it though. I love _you_ ,” he says quietly, and Daichi can practically feel his smile.

 

“I love you too,” Daichi replies, lifting his head for a kiss. Tetsurou obliges, kissing him gently, and it kind of makes his head spin after how frantically they'd been grinding against each other just moments before.

 

“I think I need to wear your shorts more often if it's gonna make you act like that,” Tetsurou muses when they separate, tugging his sweaty shirt over his head and throwing it aside. The shorts and even his underwear follow right after, a grimace appearing on his face when he sees the mess he's made. Daichi shakes his head at how shameless his boyfriend is, but tugs his own sweaty shirt off as well. He really needs to get out of the too-tight shorts, too, because he's kind of scared they're going to cut off his circulation if he wears them any longer.

 

As he's tugging them off, back turned to his very naked boyfriend, he feels fingers on his hip, touching the red grooves marring his skin and making him jump. “Damn, they really cut in deep,” Tetsurou says, brow furrowed. “That couldn't have been comfortable...”

 

Daichi snorts, stepping out of the shorts. “I told you they were tight on me. Damn you and your skinny hips...”

 

A smirk pulls at the taller man's lips. “Want me to kiss it all better?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows, and Daichi throws the shorts at his face and shoves him away.

 

“I need a shower, and so do you because we both fucking stink.”

 

“...that's not a _no_.”

 

Daichi kicks off his underwear last, moving toward their bathroom before he stops to glance over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “That's right, genius. Are you coming with me or not?”

 

He doesn't think he's ever seen Tetsurou move so fast in his life, and he can't help but laugh as he grabs him and all but drags him into the bathroom. They move under the spray of the shower together, smiles pressed together while Tetsurou's hands find the red marks in Daichi's hips once more, and Daichi decides he's very okay with how his day has gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> another Shitty Ending™ by sar
> 
> im throwing myself out a window im so embarrassed bye
> 
> as always, heres the ol [tumblr](http://priincetakumi.tumblr.com), feel free to tell me what u thought here or there


End file.
